Welcome
Good morning. It’s Sunday, the sun is shining through the windows, and the glass is still foggy from the coolness of the early hours. Here I am in the quiet, waiting on the presence of God. Coffee beside me, Bible open, computer ready — and just like He always does, He comes and sits with me awhile. He whispers words I couldn’t have thought up on my own. He brings gifts of peace, mercy, forgiveness, and fresh eyes to see beauty in His creation — like the bright sunflowers I picked up at the market, the golden rays now spilling across my table, or the hummingbird that just swooped by for a drink from the feeder.

How I cherish these moments of stillness — the quiet where my heart and mind can be one with the Lord. These are the moments that become devotionals — not because I planned them, but because He met me here. These moments with Him remind me why I write at all — because it’s here that my soul finds its voice.

Most of you know this about me — I heal, dream, live, and breathe through writing. It’s how God and I talk. It’s how I work through the deep places of life. So am I surprised that, after a few days of wrestling and reflecting, He would gently lead me to open a book, read a single verse, and begin something new? Not really. But I had no idea this would be my morning.

Wrapped in a blanket, coffee in hand, I settled into my usual quiet space… and God met me there. The words began to pour out. Before I knew it, I had written the first devotional for a series I didn’t even know I was starting — Coffee, Covenant & Grace.

The heart behind it is simple: to create a place where your spirit can breathe, your heart can rest, and your eyes can refocus on the God who meets us in both the stillness and the chaos. Whether you’ve been here from the start or just pulled up a chair today, my prayer is that you feel welcome in this space — as if you’re sitting right here in my living room with a cup of coffee in your hands and a blanket around your shoulders. That you’d be reminded the Lord knows you by name. That your burdens would feel a little lighter. And that you’d leave reminded of the One who has never once let you go.

A Savior Who Kneels
The song Spare Change by Brandon Lake (from the King of Hearts album) has been echoing in my spirit all week. There’s a picture in it I can’t shake — a picture of Jesus kneeling down.

I see Him stooping beside the woman caught in shame:
“Then the scribes and Pharisees brought to Him a woman caught in adultery. And when they had set her in the midst, they said to Him, ‘Teacher, this woman was caught in adultery, in the very act. Now Moses, in the law, commanded us that such should be stoned. But what do You say?’” (John 8:3, 5 NKJV)

The law said she deserved death. The crowd said she deserved stones.
“So when they continued asking Him, He raised Himself up and said to them, ‘He who is without sin among you, let him throw a stone at her first.’” (John 8:7 NKJV)

Conviction fell like silence.
“Then those who heard it, being convicted by their conscience, went out one by one, beginning with the oldest even to the last. And Jesus was left alone, and the woman standing in the midst. When Jesus had raised Himself up and saw no one but the woman, He said to her, ‘Woman, where are those accusers of yours? Has no one condemned you?’ She said, ‘No one, Lord.’ And Jesus said to her, ‘Neither do I condemn you; go and sin no more.’” (John 8:9–11 NKJV)

This is the Jesus who kneels. Who does not turn away from our brokenness, but bends low into it, silences every accuser, and whispers freedom: “Neither do I condemn you; go and sin no more.”

I see Him kneeling in the dust to anoint the blind man’s eyes:
“When He had said these things, He spat on the ground and made clay with the saliva; and He anointed the eyes of the blind man with the clay.” (John 9:6 NKJV)

I see Him reaching out to the leper who begged for cleansing:
“Then Jesus, moved with compassion, stretched out His hand and touched him, and said to him, ‘I am willing; be cleansed.’” (Mark 1:41 NKJV)

I see Him sitting across from the woman at the well, offering her hope:
“But whoever drinks of the water that I shall give him will never thirst. But the water that I shall give him will become in him a fountain of water springing up into everlasting life.” (John 4:14 NKJV)

I see Him responding to the Canaanite woman who refused to give up:
“But she said, ‘Yes, Lord, yet even the little dogs eat the crumbs which fall from their masters’ table.’ Then Jesus answered and said to her, ‘O woman, great is your faith! Let it be to you as you desire.’ And her daughter was healed from that very hour.” (Matthew 15:27–28 NKJV)

And I hear His voice — the same voice that healed the lame, welcomed the outcast, and raised the dead — speaking into the deep places of my soul.

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Here in the Middle
Earlier in the week, a friend told me she’d been watching a TV series — but instead of starting at the beginning, she skipped to the very last episode and then watched it backward. At first I laughed, but then she said something that lingered:
“When I knew the ending, I could watch the rest without fear. Even when it got messy, I knew it all worked out.”

Isn’t that the very heart of faith? God already knows the ending. He is the Author who has written every chapter of our story. “I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End, the First and the Last” (Revelation 22:13, NKJV).

But here in the middle — the long stretch between what has been promised and what has not yet come — is where life can feel the hardest.

Sometimes the middle looks like walking back into a house after the funeral, when the silence presses in and the empty chair feels louder than words. The grief feels unbearable, like waves that never stop crashing. Yet even here, Scripture promises, “The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart, and saves such as have a contrite spirit” (Psalm 34:18 NKJV).

It can also look like a relationship once rooted in love — whether marriage, family, or friendship — now strained by lies or betrayal. Dishonesty doesn’t simply vanish; it plants seeds of mistrust and doubt that grow into walls between hearts. And when the other person knows they were lied to, the wound can cut deeper than words can reach. But God, in His mercy, is still able to heal even here. His Word reminds us, “For nothing is secret that will not be revealed, nor anything hidden that will not be known and come to light” (Luke 8:17 NKJV). What is exposed can finally be surrendered, and what is surrendered can finally be redeemed.

The middle can look like the ache of watching children wander far from home, carrying prayers you’ve whispered for years, wondering if they’ll ever return. In those moments, we cling to the promise, “Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it” (Proverbs 22:6 NKJV).

It can look like the weight of uncertainty when a job is lost, when tomorrow feels blurry and provision feels out of reach. And yet His Word whispers, “And my God shall supply all your need according to His riches in glory by Christ Jesus”(Philippians 4:19 NKJV).

And sometimes the middle is found in those nights when your pillow catches tears no one else sees, and the silence of heaven feels heavier than you can carry. But even there, He bends low and promises, “Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning” (Psalm 30:5b NKJV).

And yet, it is here that Jesus bends low and reminds us: “And lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age”(Matthew 28:20b, NKJV).

He kneels with us in the dust of our middle. He carries the weight of our grief. He whispers hope into the cracks of our fear. He is the God who stepped into our brokenness before we ever asked Him to, the Savior who promises that nothing in the middle can undo the ending He has already secured.

So when the days feel heavy, and the unknowns crowd in, we can lean into this truth: the same Jesus who knelt beside the broken and lifted their heads kneels beside us still. He has written the last page — and in Him, it ends in resurrection, redemption, and life.

Trusting Him in the Middle
When we remember that He has already written the ending, we can walk through the middle differently. Not without tears. Not without questions. But without despair.

Because the God who knelt in the dust for the woman caught in adultery, who touched the leper, who gave sight to the blind, who offered living water, who responded to persistent faith — is the same God who kneels into our mess today.

And those same hands that reached for the broken are the hands that stretched wide on the cross for you and me. They were pierced so that sin, shame, and every weight of the middle would never have the final say. His Word assures us, “But He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement for our peace was upon Him, and by His stripes we are healed” (Isaiah 53:5 NKJV).

He is not afraid of the middle chapters of our story. He is present in them. He is faithful to bring us through to the end He has already secured. And because of His sacrifice, we can trust that no matter how unfinished the middle feels, the ending is already sealed in victory.

Reflection
So even here, in the middle, we can rest knowing we are never alone. “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me to lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside the still waters. He restores my soul; He leads me in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me” (Psalm 23:1–4 NKJV).

The valleys may be real, but so is His presence. The shadows may fall heavy, but so does His comfort. The middle may feel long and uncertain, but His Word assures us that “He who has begun a good work in you will complete it until the day of Jesus Christ” (Philippians 1:6 NKJV).

And when despair tries to rise, we hold to this truth: “We are hard-pressed on every side, yet not crushed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed” (2 Corinthians 4:8–9 NKJV).

The middle doesn’t get the final word. Jesus does. And His word is victory, redemption, and eternal life.

Quiet Corner Reflections

1. Where in your life right now do you feel most “in the middle” — between what’s been promised and what has not yet come?
2. How has God shown you His presence in past “middle” seasons, even when you didn’t see the ending yet?
3. What promise of Scripture do you need to hold onto most today to remind you that God is writing the last page?

Prayer
Lord, thank You that You are the God who kneels in the dust of our middle. Thank You that You do not turn away from our brokenness, but meet us in it with compassion, truth, and hope. When grief feels too heavy, when betrayal cuts too deep, when uncertainty clouds tomorrow, remind us that You are already holding the end of the story. Teach us to rest in Your presence, trust in Your timing, and walk in Your strength. Let our eyes see You in both the stillness and the chaos, and let our hearts cling to the promise that nothing in the middle can undo the ending You’ve secured. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

With devotion from my quiet corner,
Marie

(When you pray this for yourself, feel free to make it your own — and sign your own name at the end as a reminder that God’s promises are personal to you.)